Swingers

20100826


After work today, Brock and I headed a half-hour south to Mona, where there's a sickety sick rope swing!

We got off to a shaky start, as Brock did the wimpiest Tarzan call of all time.

It kind of sounded like a dying tropical bird.




He overcame this embarrassment, however.



It being my first time a-rope swingin', I started out on the baby ledge. Don't worry, I was 42 inches tall so they let me ride it without my mommy and daddy.




Because we were all alone at Burraston Ponds, Brock decided to do a legit Tarzan swing. Disney Tarzan wears a loincloth, but do you think a legit Tarzan would have even bothered? As if gorillas have any sense of propriety.

We did encounter one problem afterward, however.




Finally, I mustered up the courage to get on the Big Girl Ledge. I was a-feared.




You know how at cliff jumps/rope swings/other activities requiring actual and/or a semblance testicles there's always that ditzy annoying girl who dithers on the ledge while everyone else below thinks "Come on!!!"?

I was her for a couple minutes. But I got over it.




All in all, not a bad way to spend a Thursday evening :)



The Horror

20100825

I have been vacuum-less for OVER A MONTH.

It all started a few weeks ago when, suddenly, my vacuum turned off in mid-swipe. I thought it was an electrical problem, so I reset the house's fuses. Nothing. I cleaned out the filters from head to toe. Nothing. It looked like one particular filter was in need of replacing, so I sent Brock to Target to get a new one. He bought the wrong kind. I returned that one, and bought another. bought the wrong kind. Finally, I ordered the requisite filter on Amazon and waited anxiously for days until it came in the mail.

The day the filter came, I ripped open the package excitedly like I would have if Santa had gotten me a Furby that one year. I bounded up the stairs, gingerly inserted the new filter, and pressed "power."

IT WORKED! . . . for three minutes.

Having exhausted all of my vacuum-repairing prowess, I took my beloved Bissell to the shop, where it has been for the last week and a half. My carpets have not been vacuumed in WEEKS and I am going crazy. Even though they don't look dirty (because I'm crazy Type-A and pick up any flecks visible to the naked eye), I just know they are. It feels like I've been living in Nemo's dirty fish tank.

My vacuum will be ready at 5PM today, at which point I will go home and vacuum EVERY SQUARE MICROMETER of my house in joyous rapture, and then steam clean to my heart's content.

And if it isn't ready at 5pm?

Heads. will. roll.

Middle-Maintenance

20100824

I like to consider myself a fairly simple girl. Compared to other members of my sex, I'm easy to read, easy to get along with, and easy to please. At least that's what Brock tells me when I make him.

However . . .

Just because my favorite foods are Cinnamon Life, French toast, and the crispy chicken deluxe meal at Wendy's doesn't mean I have a problem ordering filet mignon when I go out to dinner.

Just because I do my own manicures, pedicures, and eyebrow waxing doesn't mean I won't happily throw down $100+ on my hair every two or three months.

Just because I enjoy "garage sale" stores like TJ Maxx and Ross doesn't mean I won't be walking around in there with a Coach bag slung around my shoulder (Black Friday sale at the Coach outlet store . . . holla!!!)

Just because I love the outdoors doesn't mean I will touch a fish.

Aristotle, in Nichomachean Ethics, extolled the virtue of moderation. For the modern woman, I believe this translates to "middle-maintenance." High-maintenance girls can be found in Newport Beach and the Upper West Side. Middle-maintenance girls can be found in Colorado, where the grandeur of the Rockies serves as a constant reminder of your own insignificance. A middle-maintenance girl doesn't need a closet brimming with haute couture, Tiffany & Co. dangling from her ears, or a garage filled with Italian cars.

I don't think a little luxury every now and then is necessarily a bad thing, as long as your heart (and bank account) is in the right place. If you're grateful for the blessings you receive and do your best to serve others, I don't think God will condemn you at the judgment bar for that one time you made your husband buy you suede Cole Haan boots for Christmas.

At least I hope not.

Honk If You're Horny

Parents often think that their childrens' hell-raising days will be over once said children grow old, get married, and start lives of their own.

Wrong.

Behold: Maturity at its finest.








Uncle Mark drew the boobies. AWESOME.


Where, Oh Where, Did My Weekend Go?

20100823

What a crazy weekend! I could take hours spelling out all the nitty-gritty details, but I'll spare you (and myself) by just using bullet points.

  • Brock's cousin, CJ, got home from his mission on Thursday. He served in Chapas, Mexico and totally has a "Mexican accent." It's so cute. He looks absolutely fantastic--he lost more than 40 lbs! If I went to Mexico for two years, with nothing but beans and rice and tortillas all day, the opposite would happen to me, let me tell ya.
  • We went straight from CJ's homecoming at the airport to The Lion House in SLC for Ryan and Tara's wedding dinner. Ryan is Brock's brother, and he and Tara have been together for as long as Brock and I (with the exception of Ryan's mission to Spain). I can't imagine either of them being with anyone else. Tara made the cutest video montage of them for the dinner! They're currently on their honeymoon in Cancun right now, and upon returning they'll be living in the basement of the condo we rent from Gary (Brock's dad). Super awesome--especially when we need to borrow a cup of sugar :)
  • On Friday, Ryan and Tara got mawwied! They were sealed in the Draper Temple (gorgeous!) in the biggest sealing room I've ever been in. Their reception was at the Northampton House right after that, and they had an awesome dance party! (Tara's dad is a DJ.) CJ even started to break out of mission mode and danced a little (emphasis on a little). Brock and I helped decorate their getaway car in all sorts of raunchy nonsense, but had leftover window paint at the end. So we decorated Gary and Tammie's big ol' Suburban in raunchy nonsense. They were so embarrassed! I was, too, when I ended up having to ride home sitting behind the window that read "SEX MACHINE."
  • No rest for the weary! On Saturday Brock and I woke up early and went to the SLC Temple to see my friend, Arturo, get sealed to his wife and beautiful 1-year old baby boy. It was incredible. We went to his endowment earlier in the week at the Mt. Timpanogos Temple, and were surprised with a call from him just a few days later to let us know he was getting sealed that weekend! Seeing the light in his eyes and the peace in his countenance strengthened my testimony of the Plan of Salvation like never before. I feel so blessed to have been a part of his conversion process.
  • I topped the week off with a three-hour run on Sunday. It sucked. I decided to try out a trail near my house--but it was poorly kept and overgrown with all sorts of weeds. On top of that, there was a freaking dust storm on the mountain and the wind was relentless. It blew dragonflies into my FACE on multiple occasions.
  • One of my absolute best friends, Tiffany Christensen, called me on Sunday night to let me know she's ENGAGED! :) She's getting married in late December in the Denver Temple to a wonderful, wonderful guy. I'm so happy for her!! Oh, and I'm her matron of honor (= a maid of honor who's already married). Kind of makes me sound like a granny, but whatevs!
  • Aced my finals! And I got a 120/125 on a final paper from a teacher who is a notoriously hard grader. BAM, SUCKA. Even though taking nine credits during summer term was incredibly stupid and incredibly hard, it turned out way better than I expected. Two A's and a B. Niiiice.

Needless to say, my "break" from school last week didn't exactly feel like one! This week I fully plan on vegging out and getting out. This will entail numerous episodes of "The West Wing," going to Mona for the rope swing, backpacking, a trip to the hot pots, exploring the caves at Timp . . .

Hmm. After looking at that list, I can see why Brock always complains about how our vacations feel more like work than . . . well, work.

The Boob Job

20100818

It's no fun being a flatty.





UPDATE: It has been brought to my attention that this blog post is ambiguous. Is the bed a visual metaphor for what I did to myself? Or is the title of the blog post a literary metaphor for what I did to the bed?

The latter is true. I merely bought a mattress pad for my bed, and am still rockin' the B's, baby!!


To Kill An Animal

20100816



Proof that my literary gifts started when I was but a wee lass. I consider this poem a testament to either:
  • My inner hippie
  • The fact that I watched Fern Gully way too many times in second grade ("Can't you feel the pain?" "Numb from the brain down" . . . totally Crysta's lines).

Sundance + Arturo

20100815

"Big River"--a musical about Huck Finn--has been playing at the Sundance Amphitheater for about the past month now. There's a big billboard advertising it on I-15 just outside of Provo, and every time we pass it I say "WOW, Brock! That play 'Big River' sure looks like fun! Golly, sure wish someone would buy us tickets . . . " My man pulled through and bought tickets for Friday night to celebrate the end of my finals! Wahoo!

We started our date with dinner at a new restaurant in the Riverwoods called La Jolla Groves. It was fantastic. Brock ordered beef tenderloin and I had a turkey sandwich on focaccia. Before you hate on me for ordering like a twelve-year old, try that turkey sandwich. For dessert we shared an orange creme brulee and lemon cake--both oozing with citrus goodness! 

The amphitheater at Sundance was gorgeous. I'm sad we've lived here three years and have never been there before! I'm attaching some pictures, so I'll let those speak for themselves. "Big River" was a well-done play. I could tell that some of the Utahns around us were shocked at the frequent use of the n-word, though . . . pretty funny. The night got a little chilly, but Brock let me wear his big fleece coat and we nestled into our blanket nice and warm. Hot cocoa at intermission helped, too :)

After the play ended we were walking down to our car when we heard some soulful blues music echoing through the trees. Turns out there was a blues band playing at The Owl Bar. It was one of those sounds that you hear and you can't help but walk towards it. We stepped inside for a half-hour and listened to the best harmonica, guitar, bass, and drums we'd heard since Rosa's in Chicago. 

We woke up early the next morning to see one of my friends receive his endowments at the Mt. Timpanogos temple. His name is Arturo, and I used to work with him way back in the day at Bajio (about three years ago). I spoke enough Spanish to make friends with him, and we always joked around at work. He and his wife were having a difficult time getting pregnant. After a particularly disappointing miscarriage, I could tell he was really depressed. I gave him a Book of Mormon en espanol--even though doing that makes me so nervous. I don't want people to feel like I'm exploiting their hard times to impose my religious beliefs on them. I remember my heart was pounding out of my chest with nervousness as I handed it to him and tried, with my feeble Spanish, to explain how I thought it might comfort him. I wrote my testimony inside it.

As it turns out, his wife is LDS and had been trying to get him to come to church for some time. My giving him a Book of Mormon must have helped in some small way, because a year later Arturo was baptized (he even asked me to speak at his baptism--not an easy feat for this gringa!). This past Wednesday, he gave me a call and invited me to his endowment session. Wow. Seeing the peace and joy in his eyes . . . indescribable. 

I'm sad to report that I've lost pretty much all my Spanish. The Arabic running around my head jumbles everything up! At the session, I accidentally called Brock retarded ("Mi esposo es lento" instead of "Mi esposo ESTA lento"--dang it!) and asked for the NAME (nombre) of Arturo's phone, rather than the number (numero). Smooth.

As for today's docket? Church, reading, dinner at Aunt Cindy's, and a run in the mountains.

Weekends don't get much better than this one.

Click here for Sundance pictures! They're photos #71-89 in the album.



Pancakes: The New Rocket Science

20100812

Every time I order something at the Scoreboard Grill in the Cougareat, I am impressed.

With the incompetence of the student employees making my food.

Every time, I hope it will be different--that I won't need to muster every ounce of restraint to keep myself from yelling "Hey! You're not dismantling an atomic bomb. You're making pancakes for two people with PREPARED BATTER. It shouldn't take four people nine minutes to do this."

But every time, it does.

Yet I, ever the glutton for punishment, went to Scoreboard today for pancakes after finishing a 7AM final exam. After I'd given birth to my second child, my food was up. But something was wrong.

No syrup? This is America. Pancakes and syrup are not mutually exclusive. When have you ever gone to an IHOP and not had at least THREE flavors of syrup ON YOUR TABLE. You hand me syrup-less pancakes and expect me to carry on normally? Is this a joke?

I politely asked for syrup. A student employee responded "Absolutely! Guys, can somebody grab me a syrup?" with a cheery smile. I watched in awe as the following scene unfolded before my eyes:
  1. The guy who said "Absolutely!" exerted all his faculties in scrambling an egg.
  2. Another idled at the cash register.
  3. One wiped down a counter.
  4. Another dithered about aimlessly trying to look busy.
Any rational person could ascertain that none of the above activities would have been grossly inconvenienced by a brief syrup-retrieving intermission. I thought about piping up, but I was truly interested in just how long this dazzling display of dimwittedness could go on for.

Six minutes.

Finally, a fellow sufferer waiting in line commented "Uh . . . dude, are you going to get her syrup?"

I sat down at a table to eat my now-cold meal. My bacon was undercooked.

Pity

Sometimes I look around at all the married couples on campus and feel sad that other girls' husbands aren't as attractive as mine.


Hottest math major alive.

Muslim Public Relations

20100811

The following is a Facebook note Brock wrote yesterday. It's too good not to share.
Building a mosque and an Islamic cultural center near Ground Zero is a no-win situation for everyone involved.

I understand the arguments for building the mosque at Ground Zero. I agree with them all, including the statement: “It’s the right thing to do.” I don’t agree with the minority of Americans who display anti-Muslim sentiments and are currently protesting mosque projects around the nation. It’s wrong to blame an entire faith for the exploits of extremist fundamentalists.

Unfortunately, an SRI poll found that 61 percent of New Yorkers oppose the proposed multi-story Muslim cultural center and mosque two blocks from Ground Zero. Calling that 61 percent “bigots” would be a huge mistake. There could be several reasons for why they don’t want the mosque there. For some, it might be out of respect for the dead. For others, they could have a hard time distinguishing the version of Islam practiced by the strong majority of Muslims with that of Jihadists. And a few probably are bigots.

We can talk about how wrong that 61 percent is; after all, there were practicing Muslims counted among the dead on September 11. Islam is, at its foundation, a religion of peace. It’s wrong to hate others because they are different from you. These are all great rebuttals that we can shout from the top of the Empire State Building, but it won’t matter. Nobody likes being told they are wrong, especially with regards to a deep, healing wound. It’s like going to a funeral and telling the new widow she should have chosen a nicer casket.

The ACLU would like us to believe that the problem with that 61 percent is religious intolerance. “We congratulate the Landmarks Preservation Commission for promoting our nation’s core values and not letting bias get in the way of the rule of law,” they said in a statement. “The free exercise of religion is one of America’s most fundamental freedoms.” While I do not disagree with these statements, 61 percent is still a large number to lecture on fundamental freedoms of Americans, especially when compared with the meager 26 percent supporting the mosque. Muslims don’t have a “religious intolerance” problem—they have a public relations problem.

Is the mosque worth it? Never mind the rights and wrongs in this story. If the mosque gets built as planned, eight out of ten New Yorkers will see it as an “unacceptably insensitive” statement by the Muslim faith. Only two out of ten agree the cultural center would serve as a monument to religious tolerance. If the mosque is built, the ACLU and Islam will have their political victory. But a majority of New Yorkers and, I believe, Americans, will see Muslims as insensitive. Opposition will rise to Muslims in the United States. In short, the mosque at Ground Zero might actually foment the same religious intolerance the ACLU feels it has won a victory over. Political wins are not public wins.



But the most interesting statistic of all is that only a little more than half of all New Yorkers have been following news about the mosque closely. This provides a precious window of opportunity that moderate Muslims everywhere can use to their advantage.

The best scenario for Muslims, from a public relations standpoint, would be to not build the mosque. It would not show a sign of weakness—it would be a sign of respect. Imagine how the 61 percent would feel towards Muslims if they read this statement on the front page of the New York Times tomorrow morning:

“After careful consideration of the opinion of the people of the New York, we have decided to withdraw our plans to build the mosque and Islamic Cultural Center. We are extremely grateful to live in the United States where religious freedom is a core value of its people, and thank Americans all across the nation who supported the building of this beautiful symbol of religious tolerance. With heavy hearts we recognize the fact that, nine years ago, our great nation was brutally and maliciously attacked by terrorists who repugnantly and deceitfully professed to be members of the Muslim faith, a faith centered on peace.

This attack caused deep wounds in all of us, wounds that we share without regard to ethnicity or religion. For many of us, these wounds are just now beginning to heal, and we respect the healing process that is taking place in this nation. To some, the line between true practitioners of Islam and extremist imposters is blurred. It is out of love and respect for those Americans that we have decided to build our mosque and cultural center 3 miles away from the hallowed earth of Ground Zero.

We are united here with Jews, Christians, and all other religions under one common banner—the Star-Spangled Banner. And together, out of the ashes of terrorism, we will work to build a stronger society based on the principles of mutual love and understanding, and in so doing we will heal the wounds within our hearts.”

Muslims would win so much more than a political victory with a statement like this. Politicians could never denounce them. Public opinion would shift incredibly with regards to the mosque. The 61 percent who are against the mosque would feel love and respect from this gesture by the Muslim community. And by “admitting” the line is blurry, Muslims would actually distance themselves from extremists in the very minds of the people who can’t tell the difference.

We strive too much in this country for political victories because they give us the ability to say, “I’m right and you are wrong.” But the true victories lie in creating situations where both the opposing sides win. By choosing not to build the mosque from a public relations standpoint, the Muslim community could create a win-win situation.

Joe Tough Guy

20100808

There's a trail marathon in CA that looks way sick. I talked to my dad on the phone about running it together next year, to which he responded something like "Yeah . . . "

Being the prodding type, I sent him an email with a link directing him to the course's website. His reply?

"You already tried to induce me to go on this run with you and I, in true man-fashion, simply ignored this sly maneuver. I do not do 26-mile runs."

Well excuuuuse me Mr. Ultrapants!

"True man-fashion." From the nine-fingered man who has maybe 20 lbs on me. He cries during sad country songs, too.


A Hodgepodge of News

1. The good news is that the bedspread I've been wanting for months is here!



The bad news is that I actually ironed the bedskirt and comforter--which is embarrassingly Type A even by my standards. Oh, and just so you know, I hate the blue paint, too. I've been wanting to redo it for ages, but Brock hates painting and always finds excuses to put if off ("But we just painted the living room!"--yeah, like THREE YEARS AGO). Plus, we're moving in nine months anyway, so whatevs.

2. My cousin/BFF Heidi is mawwied! She looked absolutely ravishing yesterday and I'm so happy for her. Heidi and Chad are beyond perfect for each other and we love them both!




3. My family is awesome. Specifically, my dad and little sister Kiana. They came to Utah for Heidi's wedding, and look at the gifts they made us!





The Downpour

20100804

A cloud loomed overhead as she looked out the window. A flash of lightning. A crack of thunder. 

"If you want to see who the true runners are, look outside during Mother Nature's next hissyfit."

The words--a clever tagline from a shoe advertisement--gnawed at her like the memory of a past sin. 

She hadn't even made it around the block when the hail started. Tiny white pellets screamed down from above while the sky roared. Thankfully, it didn't last long. The air quieted and a watercolor sunset unfolded across the horizon. But just when her shoes were getting dry, small dark circles began to dot the pavement. Within minutes, a soothing evening rain became liquid wrath.

She was breathless, drenched, cold, shivering. But the words didn't gnaw at her anymore.




Life Can Be Very, Very Hard

20100802

I stayed up late last night compiling a presentation for my Middle Eastern politics class. I have to stay up late tonight writing a policy memo about how the U.S. should address Iran's nuclear program. Next week I have to explain, in eight pages, whether interests or ideas played a greater role in the American founding. I am also a bridesmaid in a wedding on Saturday, have three finals next week, a missionary homecoming in CA, and a huge ongoing project at work.


It was true then and it's true now. Life can be hard. Very, very hard.

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